[CAMI]By the time he comes back, I’m dressed, and my senses have returned. But it only takes a second, just one glance at that cold, dangerous face, to remember how I felt when he had his knee pressed between my thighs. This isn’t some fantasy. I try to hammer that in my head. Zeke is real. A fucking nightmare.But my mind feels broken. He strolls in with a bottle of champagne in one hand and that same devil’s grin on his face.“Thought we’d toast,” he says smoothly, lifting the bottle. “Newlyweds and all. Don’t tell me you’re a lightweight.”He pours into two glasses, the fizz catching the low light, and sits on the edge of the bed. Then he pats the space beside him. “Come on, sweetheart. Get comfortable.”I move—because what choice do I have?—and take the glass. His eyes are already on me, devouring.“It didn’t have to happen like this,” he says, sipping. “I’m guessing you pictured something different for your wedding day.”My jaw clenches, daring myself to cut him off, “You were
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